Let Go
by Alemantele
Summary: And from the ashes of Rose DeWitt Bukater, Rose Dawson began to rise.  Drabble. Rose Dawson is contemplating the events of her short time aboard the Titanic after sharing the tragic tale.


**AN: And after rewatching Titanic, I decided to touch up this little drabble from a while ago and share it with you fine folks on Fanfiction. Cheers!**

Titanic- Let Go

She was dead.

Rose DeWitt Bukater was dead.

And she had been for a while now. The spoiled, rich and dying girl had died when she first set out onto that stern. And she hadn't come back.

She wasn't that girl. Not anymore. She wouldn't be the girl who had petty virtues that consisted of nothing more than beauty and her place in the social ladder. She wouldn't be the girl who sat by her husband's arm like a mere accessory.

No, she'd be the girl who wasn't afraid of what others thought of her. The one who rode a horse like a proper cowboy and could spit and drink like the lot of them.

The girl who let herself run free and let the wind take her.

This was who she was meant to be.

But she remembered how supressed she felt. She hadn't known then, but she was always felt that ember of who she longed to be flicker. She felt the tiny flame cool. And she had felt the emptiness in her heart and longed for someone to fan the flames.

So when she stepped out on the stern, she could barely feel that flame anymore. And that was why she needed to kill the empty shell that was Rose DeWitt Bukater.

But that was before her came along.

Because he was the only one who cared. He was the only one to stop and fan those flames; to push back the howling wind.

He was the one who cared enough to get involved.

When he gave her his hand, "You jump, I jump," was what he had said. And when she took it, that was when she knew that Jack Dawson let her live in more ways than one. And that maybe those flames hadn't died after all.

As soon as she touched his hand, they were inseparable.

When the flames raged, she let them burn her.

And from the ashes of Rose DeWitt Bukater, Rose Dawson started to rise.

But not yet.

First, she had to know him, know Jack.

She remembered her mixed feelings about Jack Dawson.

On one hand, he was ruse and rowdy and uncouth and just about every under classed adjective she could think of.

On the other, he was genuine, kind and actually had a heart.

She had felt torn but eventually, love and loyalty to her mother won out.

So she said goodbye and once again put on Rich Girl Rose's mask.

Except this time, it felt more like a costume that didn't quite fit her.

She knew then, that she had made the right choice in taking Jack's hand and made the wrong choice to take back her old life.

So she had turned around yet again.

And she never regretted that particular decision to leave that life forever.

She hadn't wanted to keep Rose Dawson locked up.

Naturally, she felt brave standing in the bow of the ship. She felt like she was finally flying.

"Come Josephine, in my flying machine," he whispered in her ear.

She hadn't known then that that song might've saved her life.

Her life…but not his.

But then and there she had felt only the joy of her choice. The wind in her hair and the sun on the horizon. But most of all, his hand on her waist and the light headed giddy feeling that finally, _finally_, she was free.

It had felt natural when she first pressed her lips to his.

Because there was only him.

Only Jack Dawson.

Only her love.

The rest of her whirlwind romance was much of a blur.

She could remember the details, right down to the 3rd class party and the feel of the cheap beer sloshing on her face.

But that wasn't important.

No, what marked their relationship was the day, no the night the Titanic sank.

The night Jack drew her like one of his French Girls.

She felt her heart going faster than the ship's engines. She felt her breath quicken on the sight on his concentrated face. She felt the Heart of the Ocean resting on her chest.

She felt alive.

She loved it.

She had felt no shame in showing off for Jack. She hadn't felt embarrassment either.

The next part had been better.

But she wouldn't go into that.

The next thing she needed to remember was the split second decision she had made when jumping off the lifeboat.

She had to see Jack with her. And if that meant dying, then so be it.

Hoping she'd survive wasn't even important anymore. Finding Jack was her priority. If they lived, fine. If not, that was okay too. As long as Jack was there.

So when she found herself back on the stern of the ship, this time Jack helping her to the other side, she knew she regretted nothing.

The water was cold.

The ocean was vast.

It was a good day to die.

She had felt numb.

The door was the only thing between her and a watery grave. Jack didn't have the same luxury.

"Don't let go," he had told her. He told her not to say goodbye, to live and dream. Essentially, he had told her to live without him.

But how could she survive without him? She should've realized that _he_ was saying his goodbyes. That he didn't think her would make it.

She had been stupid, to promise him.

But she had.

So she had to live.

"Come Josephine, in my flying machine," she had breathed, too weak to do much else.

And when she turned her head, he was gone.

So she slipped back into the cold, of God, the _cold_ water. And she strived to live.

She had promised him after all.

The next few days she cared for nothing.

She told the man she was Rose Dawson.

Because that was who she had become.

Because she wanted to honour Jack and his ambitions. How her took off with the breeze and how he never let go.

Mostly how he let her live in his spirit.

She'd return the sentiment as best she could. She'd let him live in her heart.

So now she looks out to the ocean yet again, clutching the priceless diamond in her hand. Her feet climb onto the railing. Her hair blows in the air.

She's feeling it again.

She'd dying.

Not like 84 years ago.

Rose is really dying.

She held onto Jack and imagined that he was next to her. Whispering in her ear.

She had once said a woman's heart in like the ocean.

Well if so, Jack would be the life, the soul and the heart of that ocean. Her heart. Her life. And herself.

So as she flies and flings the worthless rock into the ocean, she's letting go of all her regrets and fears from 84 year ago. She's letting go of the Heart of the Ocean since it never was her heart and it never will be.

She thinks of Jack.

"Never let go," he said.

Well now it's finally time to. And she has no other choice.

So then, as the diamond sinks into the sea, she turns and slips back into her bed, glancing at the memories of her promise.

And then, Rose Dawson lets go.

~~~  
><strong>AN: I know that some...well most details are left out but that was mostly a culmination of me being lazy and feeling that some parts of the movie weren't worthy of a mention. <strong>

**So that's my Titanic one-shot. Most likely not going to keep writing for Titanic. **

**Review please?**

**Ciao~Ale**


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